


Scenes From A Marriage

by elementalv



Category: The Dresden Files (Books), The Sentinel, due South
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalv/pseuds/elementalv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some are born to be Guides, and some are dragged to it kicking and screaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes From A Marriage

### Fucking Doctors

“Hey, Doc!”

Doctor Lebowski, not the most cheerful of people to begin with, looked up from a chart to give Vecchio the evil eye. “Detective.”

Man, there was a wealth of ugly in that one word. Still, Vecchio had survived Vegas for a year, Florida for three years and being Kowalski’s partner for the last five years, so there was no way in hell he was backing down now.

Even if the woman _did_ make Thatcher look like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. I just talked to Kowalski’s folks, and they —”

“They,” she interrupted, “and you will be happy to know that I’m releasing your partner this afternoon. Now if you’ll excuse me —”

Before she could walk off, Vecchio grabbed her arm. “What do you mean you’re letting him go today?”

“I think the statement speaks for itself.” She looked at her arm and then at Vecchio. This time, it was enough to make him take a step back. But not away, because damn it, Kowalski wasn’t ready to leave. Not just like that. The guy had spent ten days in complete isolation, which, as far as Vecchio was concerned, meant Kowalski should spend at least the next month or two in the hospital, preferably the one with the nice padded rooms.

“What about that rash?” His voice was a little loud, so he dropped it some. “He’s had it since he got here.”

“I’ve given him a referral to an allergist. Meanwhile, hydrocortisone will take care of the itching.”

She tried to walk off again, but Vecchio stepped in front of her. “He’s hearing voices!”

“As it turns out, he’s hearing actual conversations.” Lebowski’s expression softened a little from the death glare she usually sported around Vecchio and Kowalski. “His aural acuity is remarkable.”

“What the hell are you talking about? He could barely string two sentences together before he got grabbed. It’s even worse now.”

Vecchio and Lebowski stared at each other for a full minute before the light went on over her head. “Aural. As in relating to his hearing. Not oral as in speech.”

“Oh.” She tried to step around him, but he wouldn’t let her. “Okay, fine. His hearing’s remarkable. Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Do? Nothing. It’s hardly surprising that his hearing is somewhat hyperactive, given the conditions of his captivity. Now that he’s back in the world, so to speak, things should calm down in a few days or so.”

“What about the part where he fucking whimpers whenever I leave the room?” This was the only question Vecchio actually gave a damn about. He asked the others first, because he didn’t want the doctor thinking he was a completely selfish bastard — though why he gave a shit to begin with was a mystery he absolutely didn’t want to solve.

“You’ll be happy to know I’ve also referred him to a psychiatrist who is well-qualified to treat patients after a traumatic event.” Lebowski shifted to the left, and Vecchio matched her move, but it turned out it was a fake, because she scampered to the right and dived for the elevator just before the doors closed.

“Goddamn doctors. Goddamn Kowalski,” he muttered under his breath.

Four doors down, Kowalski yelled out, “I heard that, Vecchio!”

 

### Slouching Toward Domesticity

Fucking Kowalski.

The last three, four days had been — okay, not hell. Not even close to hell. Turned out that when Kowalski was allowed to sleep through the night, he was a lot like his old hyper self. Of course, he wasn’t much fun to live with that first day, especially with the cleaning binge he made them go on as soon as he got home, but now that the place was clean enough for surgery, Kowalski was fine. Mostly.

He’d be finer still if he’d let Ray go home instead of keeping him here like a fucking security blanket, but Ray wasn’t kicking too much about that. Freak though he was, Kowalski was an adult, and Ray had almost forgotten what it was like to live someplace with no kids. It was nice, this lack of yelling. High-pitched yelling, anyway. He and Kowalski still got into it —

“Goddamn it! The milk is maybe thirty seconds past its sell-by date,” Ray yelled. “You used to drink it until right before it turned into refrigerator cheese, so what the hell’s wrong with this?”

“I don’t — just —” Kowalski turned green and rushed for the bathroom. The sound of him bring up breakfast was nearly enough to make Vecchio gag, and it was definitely enough to convince him that Kowalski was serious about the milk being off.

He took a tentative sniff. Nothing. He poured a little into a glass and swirled it around some — Kowalski heaved again and swore — and then Ray took a taste. Nothing. It was fine.

Ray yelled, “There’s not a goddamn thing wrong with this milk.”

“It’s sour!”

“Like hell it is. I just tasted —”

“Fuck!” And there went Kowalski for a hat trick. Ray gave up.

“All right, already. It’s gone.” He tilted the carton over the sink. “I know you can hear me pouring perfectly good milk down the drain, so it’s okay to stop puking.”

He heard a choked off sound, then a very distinct, “Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck the Riv you rode in on. Fuck you, fuck the Riv and fuck your goddamn grocery store for sending over bad milk.”

It took everything Ray had not to go in and teach Kowalski a lesson or two about respecting a man’s car. And anyway, from the sound of the pipes, Kowalski was taking a shower — his second of the day — which meant it was a good time to call Terese.

Her cell phone rang a couple of times, only it wasn’t Terese who picked up, it was Frannie. She snarled, “Why are you calling?”

Ray slid his voice into innocence as best he could and asked, “What? A guy can’t call his niece?”

“You promised,” she hissed. Ray promised Frannie lots of things, and he wasn’t sure exactly what had her panties in a wad at the moment. “You promised in front of God and Ma you wouldn’t make her research for you anymore.”

Oh. That.

“I promised I wouldn’t ask for her help on cases anymore.” He spoke quickly, to keep her from getting a word in edgewise. “This isn’t a case. It’s Kowalski.”

“Oh.” As he’d hoped, it took the wind right out of her sails. God only knew why, but Frannie actually liked Kowalski. “Well you can’t talk to her.”

Jesus. “Why not?”

“I cannot believe I’m related to such a moron,” she said. “What time is it?”

“It’s, uh, it’s nine. Five after nine.”

“Uh huh.” She was still talking to him like he was the village idiot. “And the day, Ray? What day is it?”

“How the hell should I know? Hold on.” With all the Kowalski-related excitement of the last few weeks, Ray had lost track of the days. He went to the door and glanced out in the hallway. Score. One of Kowalski’s neighbors actually had newspaper delivery. He snagged the paper and went back into Kowalski’s apartment. “Thursday. It’s the ninth. You got a point to this?”

She took a deep breath. “The ninth of _what_?”

“October. Geez, would you just —” Ray blinked. Nine o’clock on a Thursday morning in October. “You couldn’t have just said she’s in school?”

“She’s seven years old. Where else would she be? Moron.”

“Fine. I’m an idiot.” He ignored her overly dramatic agreement and continued, “She was looking stuff up last night. Would you see if she found anything?”

“For the love of —”

“Kowalski.” Ray waited a beat. “Come on, Frannie. Kowalski needs help.”

“She’s only seven. You think she can find something the doctors can’t?” Yeah, Frannie had a point. For any other seven-year-old kid. Not for Terese.

“Yeah, I think she can. That kid makes the Internet sing like a bird. You know it and I know it.”

“Ray —”

“Look at it this way,” he said, pressing his advantage. “I’m encouraging her to use her powers for good, not evil.”

“I hate you.” While Ray waited for Frannie’s pride, conscience and mother’s instinct to get on the same page, Kowalski came out of the bathroom. He was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms that Frannie had sewn for him, and every time Ray saw them, his blood pressure hit the roof. Frannie, in her desire to be helpful, had taken Ray’s pristine, 400-count Egyptian cotton sheets to use for the fabric.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, scowling at Kowalski. For his part, Kowalski wandered closer and put that goddamn pathetic expression on his face, the one that positively begged Ray to let Kowalski get just a little closer, because for some reason, he felt better around Ray. Nope. Wasn’t gonna happen. Not this time. Ray glared harder, then looked away. “I’ll wait, Frannie.”

“Fine,” she said, meaning it was anything but.

He heard her put the phone down then made the mistake of looking at Kowalski again. If anything, the bastard looked even more pathetic than he did when Ray pulled him out of that cell nine days earlier. Ray clenched his teeth, tried like hell to ignore Kowalski, then gave a short, sharp nod. Two seconds later, Kowalski was behind Ray, his arms wrapped around him, his forehead touching the back of Ray’s neck.

“How long you gonna keep this up?” Ray asked.

“Don’t know.”

“It’s gonna be a problem, chasing bad guys, if you don’t let go of me.”

“Whatever.” Kowalski shifted around and —

“The fuck?” Ray tried to step away, but Kowalski wouldn’t let go. “You’re sniffing me? You’re _sniffing_ me?”

“You think I like this? Trust me, I don’t.” Kowalski took another sniff and _licked_ Ray’s ear right around the time Frannie got back on the phone, meaning Ray couldn’t have the cow he so richly deserved.

“I can’t believe this,” Frannie said.

“You and me both,” Ray said, trying to escape the double threat of Kowalski’s nose and tongue, for God’s sake.

“She’s seven years old, and already her handwriting is better than yours.”

“Frannie!”

“Okay, okay. Hold your asses.”

“Horses,” Ray said immediately, because his ass was way too close to Kowalski just then, and he didn’t want her giving Kowalski any _more_ ideas.

“Asses, horses. It’s all the same. Okay, she’s got a couple of notes. One says something about sentence — no. Sentinels. And the other’s a name. Blair Sandburg in Cascade, Washington.”

“Thank you!” Ray didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful to anyone in his life than he was at that moment.

“There’s no number.”

“Not a problem. I’ll get Marcy to look it up for me. Gotta go.”

“Ray!”

He hung up before she could start in on him again, then twisted around as much as he could. Kowalski had gone solid on him at some point in the last couple of minutes, and Ray knew from bitter experience that Kowalski would stay that way until Ray did something to get him moving again.

Ray freed up his arm then thwacked Kowalski on the back of the head. “Let go, would you?”

“Huh?” Kowalski blinked a few times. “What?”

“Let go,” Ray said, with a hell of a lot more patience than he was feeling.

“Oh. Yeah.” Kowalski took a step back and reached up to scratch his left armpit. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna get dressed.”

“Yeah. You do that.” Ray stayed put, and when the bedroom door closed, he muttered, “Fucking Kowalski.”

“I heard that, Vecchio!”

 

### Sneaking Around

“Sandburg.”

“Blair Sandburg, right?”

“Yeah.” Thank God for that. Ray took it as a sign for the better that he got Sandburg on the first try. “And you are?”

“Ray Vecchio. Detective, Chicago PD.”

“What can I do for you, Detective?”

Ray looked around the park to make sure no one — especially Kowalski — was around before he started talking. Of course, with Kowalski, there was no telling where he was. These days, he could be half a mile away and still listening in, the nosy bastard. “You’re the guy that knows about the senses deal. Sentinels, right?”

To anyone else, Sandburg’s quick, “No, man. I don’t know shit,” would have sounded immediate and true. To Ray, who’d spent a very ulcer-inducing year in Las Vegas, there was a tiny, barely-there hesitation before Sandburg spoke. It was enough to convince him he was right about the guy.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Ray said. “Now about these sentinels —”

“I told you, Detective. I don’t know anything.” Sandburg’s voice was colder, more tense. Ordinarily, Vecchio would have cut another cop a break, but with his own sanity at stake, Sandburg would just have to suck it up and take it like a man.

“And you expect me to believe that because — why?”

“Take a look at the newspaper clippings.” Sandburg sounded a little more relaxed, like he was on familiar ground. “My research was fake. I’m a fraud.”

“Yu-huh.” Ray leaned back against the park bench. “See, here’s the thing. I’m a detective — a damn good one, if I do say so myself, and I do. So does my captain, though not willingly, because captains are like that. Still with me?”

“Detective —”

“My singular skill as a detective is why, when I first got your name, I did a little more digging around. Would you like to know what my _detecting_ came up with?”

There was a long silence, long enough that Ray took a look at his cell phone to make sure he was still connected. Finally, Sandburg said, “This conversation is —”

“I found out about a guy who worked with Cascade PD’s Major Crimes unit as a consultant for three years — unpaid — and helped boost that unit’s success rate by a pretty decent amount.”

“Detective —”

“Oddly, however, when this same guy confessed to everyone and God that he was a fraud, he stayed right where he was. He didn’t leave Cascade, and for that matter, he didn’t even move out of the place where he lived with the very cop who he apparently screwed over.”

“Vecchio —”

“Alarms started ringing like crazy when I found out the captain of Major Crimes not only pulled every string he could find to get this so-called fraud into the police academy, but he also hired the fraud straight after graduation.”

Sandburg sighed.

Ray wasn’t obnoxious in victory — unless it was victory over Kowalski — so he continued from where he’d left off earlier. “My partner’s got that senses thing going on. He’s making me batshit insane, and if —”

“What do you mean by, ‘That senses thing going on’?”

“I mean exactly what I said. Before Aramintha Bolt kidnapped him and threw him underground, Kowalski was a normal, middle-aged pain in the ass who couldn’t see for shit without his glasses and was starting to go deaf because he didn’t know how to use the goddamn volume control on his stereo. These days? Not so much.”

“Start at the beginning,” Sandburg said, sounding interested for the first time. “What exactly happened?”

“Bolt — Kowalski — these names aren’t ringing bells for you? Jesus. CNN had twenty-four-hour coverage for a while there.” Ray spotted some old guy light up and wished like hell he smoked. If he did, he’d have something to fidget with.

“Sorry. I was in Mexico for the last month, and this is my first day back. When — hang on.” Sandburg must have put the receiver against his chest or something, because everything sounded muffled, but Ray distinctly heard, “Would you calm down, Jim?...Right, Chicago.” Sandburg said something about Kowalski, but Vecchio didn’t catch it. Instead, Sandburg came back to the phone and said, “Tell me what happened.”

“Okay, so there’s this wacko family, the Bolts — you maybe remember them from a train incident about ten, eleven years back?”

“Um...impromptu thermonuclear device on a train filled with Mounties?”

“Yeah. And then —”

“Wait, I think I’ve got this one — stolen nuclear sub in the Arctic, eight or nine years ago?”

“Yeah. Same family.” Ray took in a deep breath while Sandburg let loose with a low whistle. “Turns out the Bolts are worse than cockroaches, because just when you think they’re all safely in jail, another cousin comes out of the woodwork, which is what happened eight years ago.”

“Kowalski and a Mountie were the ones to arrest Bolt in the Arctic, right?”

“Bingo. Now, the Bolts, not being the forgiving sort, took their time then nabbed Kowalski almost a month ago.” Which was maybe three months after Fraser had disappeared to do a long-term undercover gig in Vancouver. Vecchio still wondered what prompted Benny to take off like that, but Kowalski wasn’t talking, and anyway, there was this other crap to worry about. “He was thrown into a cell with some food and water, but not much light or sound. Meanwhile, we started getting these obnoxious little notes from Aramintha Bolt about how Kowalski would spend the rest of his life locked up unless we let her uncle and cousin go. Goddamn freaks.”

“How long was he in isolation?”

“Ten days. And when we got him out of there —”

“All his senses were online.” Ray heard scratching and couldn’t tell if the connection was bad or if Sandburg was taking notes. “Do you know if he experienced anything like that in childhood?”

“What? Kidnapping? No.”

“Not that — hyperactive senses. Did he —”

“Hang on. I got another call.” Vecchio looked at his phone, muttered about the probability of one of Kowalski’s ancestors having mated with a jackass, and then answered, “What?”

“I heard that, Vecchio.”

“‘I heard that, Vecchio,’“ Ray repeated as snidely as he could. “Don’t you know how to say anything else? For that matter, do you even remember what the hell privacy is?”

“Stop whining. And tell that Sandburg guy I _did_ get kidnapped. When I was ten.”

“I don’t remember seeing anything in your —”

“By aliens.”

“Aliens.”

“Aliens.”

“Aliens.”

“Yes, goddamn it, aliens. You don’t believe me, ask Frannie or Welsh. They were there the day Fraser hypnotized me and found out about it.”

“Jesus.” Ray took a deep breath. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Probably, but I’ll be there in a couple of minutes, so we can figure it out then.”

Ray looked around. There was no way in hell Kowalski tracked him. Not possible. Hell. He took two cabs and had one of them circle around. “Where the hell are you?”

“West of you. Tell Sandburg, would you? No sense keeping him waiting.” Kowalski disconnected, and Ray peered off to the west. If he squinted, he could just barely make out a figure that _might_ be Kowalski.

Ray lifted his phone. “Sandburg?”

“Still here.”

“I’m telling you now, you have _got_ to tell me how to shut him down. That freak just tracked me over half of Chicago.” Yeah. It was Kowalski jogging toward him. His arm was raised, and Ray could make out that Kowalski’s middle finger was also raised.

“Really?” Ray groaned when he heard Sandburg’s enthusiasm. “Did he use scent or sound?”

“Who the hell knows? By the way, that was him on the other call just now. He said he was kidnapped by aliens when he was ten.”

There was a long pause then Sandburg said, “Aliens?”

“Aliens.”

“Aliens.”

“I’m not doing this again,” Ray said. “Look, just tell me what we can do to get him back to normal.” He would have waxed rhapsodic about how much, how _goddamn much_ he wanted Kowalski to stop clinging to him, but the last time Ray mouthed off about it, Kowalski looked — well — hurt. Like Ray didn’t care. Which Ray didn’t, except in a cop-partner kind of way, and why Kowalski should expect more, Ray didn’t know.

Kowalski’s jogging turned into a flat out run, which worried Ray.

“There’s nothing _you_ can do, but there might —”

“Off the phone, Vecchio,” Kowalski shouted.

“Why?”

“Purse snatcher,” Kowalski said as he ran past.

Ray swore, then told Sandburg, “I have to call you back. My partner has delusions of being a Mountie.”

 

### Man-to-Man Zone Defense

“Sandburg?”

“Is that you, Vecchio? Wait. How’d you get this number? My cell’s unlisted.”

“I got friends,” Ray said as he paced around Kowalski. “You gotta help me.”

“Oh, man. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” Sandburg sounded breathless, like Ray had interrupted a date or something, which was too bad for the guy, because Ray had an emergency.

“Are you nuts? He’s been like this for at least the last two hours.” Ray slapped Kowalski’s face again. Nothing. “Maybe as long as five hours. I don’t know.”

“Shit. He zoned?”

“He’s not stoned! He’s a cop, for God’s sake, and a damn good one. There’s —”

“Vecchio!”

“What?” Ray stopped pacing, and since he couldn’t glare at Sandburg, he glared at Kowalski, who continued to ignore him and probably the rest of the universe.

“Zoned. With a zee. Like zebra. Zoned.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ray started to seriously wonder about this so-called expert.

“Sometimes a sentinel will focus too much on input from one of their senses, and when it happens, they zone out.”

_Christ. What kind of person could actually get excited about this kind of shit,_ Ray wondered, _especially when they’re on a date_. Out loud, he said, “All I know is that Kowalski’s stiff as a board and not dead and not coming out of it the usual way.”

“What’s the usual way?”

“I slap him up the backside of his head and tell him to snap out of it.” Ray did it again, but no good. Kowalski wasn’t budging.

“You _hit_ him?”

“Well. Yeah.” It wasn’t like Kowalski didn’t hit back most of the time.

“No. Just — no. No more hitting him to get him out of a zone.”

“But it works.” Mostly, it worked. Sometimes it took longer to work than others, and that was okay, because Ray would cheerfully smack Kowalski’s head any day of the week. Any day of the week except for today, though, because Kowalski wasn’t doing anything, and that was just creepy.

Sandburg sighed. “Is it working now?”

Ray offered a grudging, “No.”

“Then it doesn’t work.”

“But —”

“Vecchio, it doesn’t work. Trust me on this, okay?”

“Fine.” Ray made a face at Kowalski. “So what _does_ work?”

“Do you have any idea what he might be focused on?”

“How the hell should I know?” Sandburg tried to say something, but Ray talked over him. “I had to go back to the station on account of that no-good bum of a purse snatcher Kowalski ran down this morning, and when I got back, he was standing in the middle of the living room, looking down at his hands.”

“Were his hands empty?”

“No. He was holding my cashmere scarf. My three-hundred-dollar cashmere scarf I don’t let anyone touch, and how he got it —” Actually, Ray had a pretty good idea who brought it over, and he added that to the list of things he had to yell at Frannie about.

“Cashmere. He was probably chasing down the feel of every last strand, which explains why hitting him didn’t work.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry about it. All you need to do is engage one of his other senses. Which one does he react to more strongly than the others?”

Ray held the phone away from his ear, tempted so very much to throw the damn thing out the window. He clenched his jaw a couple of times and said, “At the risk of repeating myself, how the hell should I know?”

“Okay, man, just relax. You getting tense won’t help the situation.” Sandburg took a quick breath and kept talking before Ray could get a word in edgewise. “I want you to take a couple of deep breaths to relax yourself. In on the count of one, two, three, four, five, and hold for one, two, three, four, five.”

Unwillingly and against all odds, Ray found himself breathing exactly the way Sandburg told him to. He wanted to be pissed off that it worked, but Sandburg had calmed him down way too much for that. The best he could manage was irritation.

“Enough, already. What do I do to snap Kowalski out of it?”

“Is there anything he particularly likes?”

“Yeah. My neck.” That same neck suddenly burned with a blush that went straight up Ray’s face. On the list of things he’d never _ever_ wanted to tell another cop, mentioning Kowalski’s preference for Ray’s neck was number two. Confessing his completely insane reaction to Kowalski’s preference was number one.

“Okay, scent.” Sandburg was so matter-of-fact about it that Ray wondered, for the first time, what kind of shit that other sense guy — Ellison — put Sandburg through. “I want you to take your shirt off —”

“No!”

“— and let him get a good whiff of you. I’m guessing you haven’t showered since this morning, even after chasing down your perp —”

“Don’t be disgusting!”

“— so he’ll be sure to get a snout-full of one hundred percent pure Vecchio.”

There was a thin undercurrent of amusement in Sandburg’s voice, which made Ray think Sandburg was probably punishing him.

“You’re getting even with me for interrupting your date, aren’t you?”

“No, actually I’m not. I’m telling you the truth. You need to distract him from his sense of touch, and since he likes the scent of you, that should do the trick.”

“But —”

“I have to go, Vecchio. If he’s not out of it in fifteen minutes, give me another call. Otherwise, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

This time Ray _did_ throw the phone. It crashed against the wall and fell to the floor in pieces; Kowalski was probably going to blow a gasket since it was his phone, but Ray didn’t care. No way did he care if he was about to humiliate himself.

After closing the blinds, he stood in front of Kowalski and tried one last time to get his scarf back. No go. Kowalski had too tight a hold on it.

“Fucker,” Ray muttered. There wasn’t a twitch, so Ray sighed heavily and took off his jacket. He waved his arm in front of Kowalski for a minute, hoping the pit smell would get to him. When nothing happened, he yanked off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

Ray shuffled as close to Kowalski as he could get, then pulled Kowalski’s head forward enough that his nose hit Ray’s shoulder.

“Take a nice, deep sniff, Kowalski, then snap out of it, you hear?”

At first, Ray thought it was another bust, but after a few seconds, Kowalski leaned in a little closer.

“That’s right, Kowalski. Got your Grade A Vecchio stink, right here.”

Kowalski’s hands dropped a little lower, and Ray grabbed his scarf just before it fell to the ground. He was about to back away when Kowalski wrapped both arms around him and wouldn’t let go. Not only that, but the dickhead was _licking_ him again.

“Goddamn it, let go!”

“Don’t wanna,” Kowalski said, and then —

“You kissed me!”

Kowalski shook a little, which made sense, because he was laughing. At Ray. “Way to sound like an outraged virgin, Vecchio.”

Ray opened his mouth to explain to Kowalski that he was in no way, shape or form a virgin, but Kowalski beat him to the punch, only with lips. And tongue. And little nibbling bites that started at Ray’s lower lip then worked their way back to his ear.

Jesus. Stella once told him Kowalski could kiss like nobody’s business, but Ray had no idea she meant something like this. Shouldn’t a kiss pretty much stay at the mouth? Did it really need to stretch to, say, an ear? Or the neck? Because sure, it felt good, great even, but Ray was an old-fashioned guy when it came to kisses. Of course, before Kowalski started in on him, Ray would have also said he was strictly into women’s kisses, so maybe the jaw-ear-neck kind of kissing wasn’t that bad after all.

Kowalski bit down on Ray’s neck with the exact amount of pressure required for Ray’s left leg to start kicking like a dog’s, and Ray moaned, “Oh, fuck.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Kowalski had Ray’s slacks undone and sliding down before Ray’s brain finally caught a clue.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” Ray moved so abruptly that he broke free of Kowalski’s tentacles — no way were those things arms.

“Trying to get lucky. You mind?” He took a step forward, and Ray, in his haste to move backward, tripped over his slacks, which were bunched around his ankles. He went down hard and in more ways than one, he was disturbed to note.

“Yes, I _do_ mind,” Ray said, with as much dignity as he could muster, all things considered.

Kowalski waved his arms around as if to say Ray was a complete idiot, and okay, maybe he was — certainly his dick thought so — but despite all evidence to the contrary, he had principles. The first was you didn’t fuck around with your best friend’s girl or guy, whichever the case may be. The second was you didn’t sleep with a guy unless you were a woman or gay, and Ray was most definitely not a woman.

He shelved the gay question for later.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t into that, because your dick there is telling a whole different story.” Kowalski leaned over and grabbed one of Ray’s hands to haul him upright again.

“Fine. I liked it. But it isn’t happening again.” Ray reached down to pull up his slacks and would have upended himself again if Kowalski hadn’t steadied him.

“Why not?”

“Hello?” Ray knocked on Kowalski’s head a couple of times. “Does the name Benton Fraser mean anything to you?”

Kowalski rolled his eyes. “You telling me you got a thing for Fraser?”

“He’s your _boyfriend_ for pete’s sake. How can you cheat on him like this?” Ray landed on the floor again, because Kowalski was suddenly laughing too hard to keep Ray steady.

Ray scootched away slowly, untangling his slacks and legs so he could get dressed again. Kowalski didn’t try to stop him. He just kept looking at Ray and laughing even harder. It was starting to get to the point where Ray was feeling a little insulted by the time Kowalski started calming down.

“Thanks, Vecchio,” he said on the tail-end of a giggle. “I can’t remember the last time I had a laugh that good.”

“I’m so happy I could help.” He stood up and fastened his slacks. Though Ray was offended, he decided he was a better man and said, “I won’t be telling Benny about this when he comes back.”

“Geez, I wish you would. He’ll probably need a good laugh by then.” He flopped on the couch and wiped the tears off his face as he took a long look at Ray. “Okay, clearly, Fraser never gave you the low-down on him and me.”

“What low-down? You live together. That’s all I need to know.” When they’d come back to Chicago, the first thing they did was move in. The way they’d mooned over each other before the Muldoon and Bolt bust went down, Ray figured those two were a done deal. Since they were a done deal, there was no need to ask about it. Or talk about it. Or even think about it. Ever.

“Yeah. We live together in a two-bedroom apartment, which, hello? You’ve been staying in Fraser’s room for the last week, remember?” Kowalski leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Read my lips: him and me are not involved.”

“But — you —”

Kowalski shook his head. “The sad thing is you actually think you’re a good detective. Listen carefully — yeah, Fraser and I gave it a shot up north. It didn’t work. You want to know why?”

Ray shrugged, totally bewildered, because he would have _sworn_ that for the last eight years, Kowalski and Benny had been going at it like rabbits on Viagra.

“All that tension between us fell flat when we finally got down to it.” Kowalski stood up and walked toward Ray. “Maybe if we’d kissed a few times down here, we would have figured it out sooner, but we didn’t.”

“The way you looked at each other when we took him to O’Hare —”

“God, you’re a moron. I’ve known the guy nine years, and he’s my best friend. He won’t be back for a year, and we’re gonna miss each other. That’s all.” Kowalski pinned Ray in place with a fierce glare. “I love him, and I’d die for him, but no way am I taking him to bed again, because there’s no spark once we’re there.”

Ray swallowed hard, because Kowalski was close and getting closer.

“You and me, on the other hand —” Kowalski was maybe a foot away. “You and me are different. We got the tension, and lately, we got spark when we touch.” Kowalski gave Ray a look that was pure sex, and then he ran his fingers down Ray’s face. “Feel that spark?”

Yeah. Ray felt that spark. Felt it from the top of his head down to his toes, and couldn’t figure out why that touch to his cheek went straight to his dick. Kowalski was close, so damn close. Another breath would bring him into kissing range, which, as Ray had established earlier, was a good thing.

It was a really good thing, and it was one that would have to wait, since Ray’s brain kicked in again at that very moment with a huge veto. The next thing Ray knew, he was breathing hard, because he’d just run the six blocks from Kowalski’s apartment to the parking garage he used.

Inside the elevator, he mumbled, “I’m fucked. Completely, and totally fucked.” His phone rang a few seconds later. “Yeah?”

“Not yet you aren’t,” Kowalski said. “And by the way, asshole, you owe me a new phone.”

 

### 666 is the Number of the Sentinel

When Ray stormed into the apartment the next day, Kowalski opened his mouth, only to have Ray shove a powdered-sugar donut into it.

“You,” he said, poking Kowalski’s chest, “do not talk. You sit, you chew. Got it?”

Kowalski replied with his middle finger, but sat down at the table anyway.

Ray remained standing. In his mind, he was a football coach who was counseling a good team player gone bad, and that required pacing. Lots of pacing. After a moment, he recalled that it also required talking.

“Last night didn’t happen.” He stopped about ten feet from the table and fixed Kowalski with a glare. “Did. Not. Happen.”

Kowalski swallowed his bite of donut, then looked Ray straight in the eye and very deliberately gave himself a blow job.

Sort of.

Ray could only stare as Kowalski took his time licking the powdered sugar from every ridge and crease on his index finger with an almost loving attention to detail. When he was done with the licking, he slurped his finger in to the root and sucked hard a few times. Ray knew it was hard just by the way Kowalski’s cheeks went in and out, and he could tell that Kowalski finished each suck by swirling his tongue around his finger. Ray let out a little noise when Kowalski pulled his finger out his mouth with an audible pop. He would have been fine, he thought, if Kowalski hadn’t started in on his thumb.

Ray stumbled backward, because there was nothing _anywhere_ that said a cop had to stay put and watch while his partner did _that_ to himself. For the second time in less than twelve hours, he bolted from Kowalski’s apartment, ignoring the cackling that followed him down the hall.

It wasn’t fair. Kowalski shouldn’t be able to do that to him, not now, not ever. Ray figured it had to be a sentinel thing, so he did what any sane person would do and called the expert, only he waited until he was at least three miles from Kowalski.

“Yeah?”

“Sandburg? That you?”

“No.” Guy sounded grumpy, which was too damn bad, because Ray was grumpier.

“Is he there? I need to talk to him.”

“Who the hell is this?”

Ray sighed. “Vecchio. Chicago PD. Look, I need to talk to Sandburg. It’s an emergency.”

“Well he’s not around,” the guy snapped. “Wait. Vecchio?”

“Yeah. Look, where is —”

“You’re the new guide?”

The hell? “What? No. I’m a cop. A cop looking for Sandburg.”

“Yeah, the new guide.” And now the guy sounded interested. “Sandburg told me about you.”

“He did?” Ray started pacing. What the hell was Sandburg doing talking about this shit with other people? “Who are you?”

“Ellison.” He yawned loudly. “And you’re Kowalski’s guide.”

“No, I’m his partner. His cop partner. When’s —”

“Sure, it starts out that way, but trust me, once Kowalski claims you as his guide —” Ellison let out a distinctly Evil Laugh, complete with audible capital letters and a whiff of sulfur.

“What the _hell_ are you talking about?” Ray flashed on an image of Kowalski dragging him around on a leash, which absolutely _did not_ turn him on in any way, shape or form.

“Sandburg hasn’t told you about it yet?”

“Told me what?”

Ellison chuckled and lowered his voice. “Look, I don’t want to ruin the surprise or anything, but let’s just say you haven’t had sex until a sentinel’s had you.”

He tried to speak, but all he could get out were a few choked off noises that should have sounded outraged but instead sounded more like whimpering. Ray would have been embarrassed if he weren’t so horrified.

“I’m telling you, Vecchio, when I claimed Sandburg, he stood for a week. Poor guy had to use lube just to walk, if you know what I mean.”

“Jesus Christ! Who _are_ you people? Are you out of your fucking mind? Who the hell talks like that?”

“Vecchio —”

“God, you’re disgusting!” Because hand to God, the idea of Kowalski giving it to Ray that hard was just —

“Vecchio, calm down. It’s Sandburg.”

“What?”

“It’s Sandburg.” In the background, Ray could hear Ellison laughing his ass off.

“The fuck?”

“You’ll have to excuse Jim,” Sandburg said. “He’s an asshole before he’s had his coffee.”

“You’re saying coffee magically makes him stop being an asshole?” A woman with two toddlers — twins, probably — glared at Ray. He sneered back at her. If she didn’t like his language, she could go to some other park.

“Well — no. He just hides it better after he’s had coffee.” Sandburg sighed. “I didn’t hear back from you last night, so I’m guessing you got Kowalski out of his zone.”

“No, no. We’re not talking about that yet. What the hell did Ellison mean by this ‘claiming’ bullshit? He said you didn’t sit for a week after, and you needed lube to walk.”

The woman chose that moment to tell Ray, “I’m calling the police!”

Ray whipped out his badge. “Fine. You called. Now run along like a good little law-abiding citizen.” To Sandburg, he said, “Well?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Sandburg said calmly.

“Not before you answer the goddamn question.”

“Just calm down, okay?”

“I don’t _want_ to be calm!” The woman still hadn’t walked off with her kids, so Ray snarled at her. That did the trick.

“Vecchio, remember the part where Jim is an asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s ex-Army. Rangers. He’s into the whole ritual of hazing.”

“Hazing.” Ray blinked. For the first time, Sandburg said something that actually made sense to him.

“Hazing. He was yanking your chain, okay?”

Ray took a deep breath, using the same rhythm Sandburg walked him through the day before. He felt better. And then he remembered the night before. “No! Not okay. You know what Kowalski did to me last night? After I got him out of that zone?”

“Um, no.” Sandburg sounded a little uncertain.

“The sniffing and licking wasn’t enough — he kissed me!” Ray’s face burned, and he wished like hell he could blame it on the wind, but for once, there wasn’t even a stray breeze to be found. _Windy City, my ass_, he thought.

There was a long pause. “Okay. And?”

“And —” Ray drew the word out into an extra five or six syllables. “That sounds a hell of a lot like that claiming Ellison was talking about, because Kowalski sure as hell never kissed me _before_ he got turned on.”

There was a moment of silence, heavily laden with significance, before Ray amended his last comment with, “His senses. Before his senses got turned up.”

“Right. But Jim was yanking your chain about claiming, so ignore it.”

“But —”

“Look, whether or not you’re interested in accepting Kowalski as a sexual partner isn’t germane to the issues you’ll face in helping him learn how to work with his senses.”

Ray immediately ignored the implication that he might _want_ Kowalski as a boyfriend and latched onto the part where he had to do anything at all with Kowalski. “Why do _I_ have to work with him?” God, that sounded whiny even to Ray’s ears. He tried for a more general, “Can’t I just, you know, ship him off to you or something?”

“No. Absolutely not.” It was the first time Ray had heard Sandburg use his cop voice, and Ray was kind of impressed. “Kowalski obviously trusts you, and the fact that you’re able to get him out of his zones with relative ease tells me he’s probably using you as a way to ground himself when interacting with the world.”

“Huh?”

“Vecchio, trust me when I say it’s better that you and Kowalski stay in Chicago and learn to work together.”

“But —” Sending Kowalski away would be so, so much easier. Certainly, Ray’s nerves would be less stressed out.

“I’ve dug out all my notes, and I’m putting them together for you. As soon as they’re ready, I’ll FedEx them. What’s your address?”

Without thinking, Ray rattled off Kowalski’s address then immediately asked, “What about the sniffing and licking and kissing?”

“If you’re not interested, just tell him. Otherwise, you know, go on a couple of dates. See if you’re compatible off the job, but be careful, man. Office romances are tricky things.”

“But —” Ray didn’t want to know about how tricky office romances were. He wanted to know what was up with Kowalski’s sniffing and licking and kissing, because he was sure Sandburg was way off base when it came to the whole claiming question.

“Shit. I have to go, Vecchio. My captain will have my ass in a sling if I’m late. We’ll talk more later.”

Sandburg hung up, and Ray sat down hard on a nearby bench. He half expected Kowalski to call, and when he didn’t, Ray called him.

“Yeah?”

“Kowalski?”

“Yeah, Vecchio.” Ray could practically hear Kowalski smirk.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Welsh called. He wants us in his office at eleven. You gonna pick me up, or do I have to call a cab?”

Ray thought about it for a moment, thought how nice it would be to just say fuck it to the whole mess and maybe go back to Florida. Then he thought about the night before, and how Kowalski’s kisses had seemed to —

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up. I’ll be there in a half hour, and you’d better be dressed.”

“Fuck you, Vecchio.”

“In your dreams, Kowalski.”

 

### Father Knows Best

“Gentlemen,” Welsh said, when Ray and Kowalski appeared in his doorway. “Come in, close the door, and have a seat.”

Welsh looked like he’d swallowed something deeply unpleasant, so Ray immediately put on his best and brightest smile — the one that never once failed to get him off the hook — and said, “Captain! How are you this fine morning?”

“While I am pleased to note that you are still quite capable of shoveling it with the best of them, at this point in time, I would like you both to sit down and talk with me.” Welsh leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, resting them on his stomach. “Detective Kowalski, you look well. Is this indeed the case?”

Kowalski shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Welsh nodded. “Good. And you, Detective Vecchio, you look well. Am I correct in assuming that your health is also optimal for your age and general physical condition?”

Ray knew there was a trap in the questions, knew it down to the bone, but damned if he could figure out where the hell it was. Neither he nor Kowalski had been around for the last three weeks to get into trouble, except for the purse snatcher, and that was a clean bust. He hated going in blind like this.

“Uh, yes, sir. My health is good. Real good.”

“I see, I see. So there was, in fact, no physical impediment to you picking up the phone and calling me at any point within the last few days?” Welsh’s voice was mild, but Ray knew perfectly well that he and Kowalski had just been reamed out but good. The only problem facing Ray at this point was trying to figure out why.

Kowalski apparently had the survival instincts of a newborn wombat, because he just shrugged again and said, “No. Didn’t know I had to if I was on leave. Sorry.”

With Kowalski’s contribution on the table, all Ray could do was try for damage control. “I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at, sir. I’ve been checking in with my lieutenant daily, and Kowalski and I were just at the one-nine yesterday.”

“Ah yes, the purse snatcher.” Welsh gave the words a dignity and gravity that confused the hell out of Ray. “Tell me, Vecchio, would that be the same purse snatcher who interrupted your phone call to Detective Sandburg of Cascade, Washington?”

Just like that, the trap was sprung. Clear as anything, Ray heard those jaws snap shut with a clang, and he knew he wasn’t getting out of this. Only, he still didn’t know what the hell this was.

“Well, yeah.” Hoping for a bit of clarification, Ray said, “Sir, what —”

“I imagine you’re wondering just how I knew you were on the phone with Detective Sandburg, when you were, after all, using your personal cell at the time, and, as we established earlier, you haven’t called me in a week.”

Kowalski, unhelpful as ever, said, “Hey, yeah. That’s right. How’d you know that?”

Ray knew. He knew he’d been ratted out, and he had a pretty good idea by who. “Sandburg, you idiot.”

“I have not had the pleasure of speaking with Detective Sandburg,” Welsh said. This eased Ray’s mind somewhat, because even though he barely knew Sandburg and thought he was kind of a flake, Sandburg had seemed like an okay guy. After all, he’d pretty much shot himself in the foot to protect his partner, which spoke well of his priorities. “I did, however, have the pleasure of speaking with Commissioner Banks of Cascade, Washington. Would you like to know what Commissioner Banks had to say, Detectives?”

This time, Kowalski managed to catch a clue. He gave Ray a helpless look, and Ray shot it right back at him. Kowalski took a page from Ray’s book and did a little preemptive ass-kissing, answering, “Uh, sure, Captain.”

“It turns out that your phone call yesterday morning caused a disturbance of one Detective Jim Ellison’s emotional well-being.” Figured it was Ellison. “In turn, Ellison caused a disturbance of Banks’ emotional well-being. Since everyone knows misery loves company, Banks decided to cause a disturbance in _my_ emotional well-being.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Ray said with all the sincerity at his disposal.

“I’m sure you are,” Welsh said. “After I offered sufficient commiseration, Banks then went on to mention that Kowalski, here, is like a human crime lab these days. This was something of a surprise to me, gentlemen.” Welsh fixed them both in place with a glare. “Would either of you care to venture a guess as to why this was a surprise to me?”

Ray bit back a sigh and decided to take it like a man. In his most conciliatory voice, he said, “Because we didn’t call you to tell you, sir.”

“Because you didn’t call me to tell me.” Welsh nodded gravely. “You didn’t tell Lieutenant Grant, either, but that’s okay, because the man is an idiot. I, however, am not an idiot. And had you shared this information with me earlier, I would not have sounded like an idiot when Commissioner Banks called me yesterday.” After a brief pause, granted to let Ray and Kowalski absorb the full impact of their failure, Welsh asked, “Are we now on the same page?”

“Yes, sir,” they answered, sounding kind of like the duet Kowalski was always going on about.

“Good.” Welsh sat up straight, and Ray followed suit. Kowalski dug some wax out of his ear. “Banks told me a lot of things, including the fact that we absolutely cannot let word of Kowalski’s new and improved senses leak out. He assured me, and I concur, that defense attorneys would be screaming illegal wire tap if they found out how good Kowalski’s hearing is.”

“All due respect,” Kowalski said, “but defense attorneys give pond scum a bad name.”

“Agreed, sir.”

“We remain on the same page,” Welsh said. “Banks suggested that Kowalski may need a bit of breathing room to adjust to his new — circumstances — and I would be more than happy to allow this.”

There was a long pause, then Kowalski said, “I’m guessing you can’t.”

“Once again, you have proven the reason you were made a detective, Detective.” Welsh took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you the time, because Dr. Lebowski faxed over a clean bill of health for Detective Kowalski. He is free to return to work on full-duty status at the start of his next shift.”

Kowalski punched the air. “Yes! About frickin’ time, sir.”

“Yeah, but what about the senses thing?” Ray ignored Kowalski’s glare and kept talking. “He freezes up sometimes, and that can’t be healthy when you’re a cop, sir.”

“These freeze-ups would be the zones of which Commissioner Banks spoke?”

“Yes, sir,” Ray said with a touch of self-righteous superiority.

“Indeed. However, the good commissioner told me you’re Kowalski’s guide, and as such, you can protect him while his mind is otherwise occupied.”

Kowalski choked a little, and Ray hoped it meant he was choking on his own tongue and not choking back laughter.

“Sir —”

“Vecchio, the time has come for you to listen, so sit back and close your mouth.” Ray’s balls tried to crawl inside a little, because Welsh didn’t often use that tone of voice, but when he did, he meant business. “You’re right. I cannot, in good conscience, send Kowalski out on the streets just yet, although Banks assured me that with some practice, those zones will stop happening.”

Kowalski perked up at that. “They will?”

“Has Vecchio shared nothing of this with you, Detective?”

“Sir —” Ray’s protest died as soon as Welsh gave him the evil eye.

“To be fair, him and me argue a lot,” Kowalski said, surprising the hell out of Ray. “He might have said something and I wasn’t listening.”

“I suggest you make the time to listen from now on, Detective, because Vecchio may be the only thing standing between you and a bullet one day. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Welsh leaned back in his chair again. “Now, as I was saying, I cannot, in good conscience, send you and Kowalski back to the one-nine when he’s not ready.”

Actually, Welsh had said he couldn’t send Kowalski out on the streets. It was a pretty obvious change of direction, and one Ray wanted to point out, but Welsh was still giving him the evil eye, so all he could do was sit and wait for the axe to fall.

There was absolutely no doubt in Ray’s mind that it would be a big axe.

“There is also some concern over the fact that the one-nine is the division gathering evidence against Miss Bolt. Her defense attorney —” all three men paused to make a token spit to the side “— has said point blank that he’ll move to dismiss any evidence that is collected while the two of you are on shift at the one-nine.”

“He can’t,” Kowalski said, his voice flat and knowing. “Not a judge in the U.S. would buy that.”

“True, but juries are fickle creatures. All they need is a whiff of taint to find someone not guilty. Would you really like to take that chance?”

Ray and Kowalski looked at each other. The system had them by the short hairs, and the best they could hope for at this point was that Welsh had come up with a reasonable solution.

“No, sir,” Kowalski said. Something flickered outside Welsh’s window, and Kowalski turned his head to watch.

“I didn’t think so.” Welsh looked at Vecchio and said, “You are not going to be happy with what I’ve come up with, Detective. Neither of you will be. You will accuse me of punishing you for not calling me, and while I understand that this is what you will think, I’ll tell you now that it isn’t true. This is, as far as I’m concerned, the safest place for you and Kowalski to be for the next six months or so. Do you understand me?”

Ray swallowed the words he wanted to say, even knowing they were going to be the start of a new ulcer. Instead, he took a couple of Sandburgian breaths and nodded tersely. “Understood. Where are you sending us?”

“Back to the two-seven. You report to Lieutenant Murphy at nine sharp tomorrow morning.”

“Murphy?” Welsh winced at Ray’s volume. “I — Murphy!? You’re putting us with the spook squad? Sir! I —” Ray would have continued, but he was thrown off by a distinct lack of Kowalski’s voice. The two of them had developed a certain rhythm over the years, when it came to complaining about a bad assignment, and Kowalski should have jumped in long before now. Only he didn’t, because he was staring out the window. “Damn it.”

Welsh frowned. “Is this a zone, Detective?”

“Yes, sir.” Ray started to lean over to swat Kowalski — God knew he deserved it after the crap he pulled that morning and the night before — but Sandburg’s words came back to him. Also, Ray didn’t want Welsh bringing him up on assault charges. He went to stand next to Kowalski and self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck, “Come on, Stanley. Time to wake up, already.”

Kowalski blinked a few times then looked at Ray and Welsh, acting like it was nothing. “What did I miss?”

“You, me and the two-seven.”

“Hey, our old precinct!” Then Kowalski’s brain kicked in. “Wait. Isn’t that where the spook squad is?”

“Lieutenant Murphy is a fine cop,” Welsh said firmly. “I’m sure the two of you will do well under her auspices, and I’m equally sure you will treat those cases with the utmost respect and care they deserve. Do you understand me?”

“I understand we’re being punished, sir,” Ray said, suddenly unwilling to play along. Being sent to the two-seven to work for Murphy might as well be the end of the road.

“Vecchio —” Welsh sighed. “I promise, you’re not being punished. Murphy’s group is the perfect place for you and Kowalski right now, and it has the added benefit of proving to the mayor’s wife that the Chicago PD does, in fact, take supernatural crime seriously.”

“The mayor’s _wife?_” Ray had to hand it to Kowalski — the guy could get more nuance into a single word than most people could manage with a book of words.

“I know,” Welsh said immediately. “And I agree. However, sending the two of you to Murphy not only gets the mayor off my back, it also protects the case against Miss Bolt, and it gives Kowalski the time he needs to do whatever it is he needs to do before I send the two of you back to Lieutenant Grant.”

“But —”

“There is no further discussion, Vecchio. I asked Frannie to go over and pack up your desks, so you’ll have no reason to show your face at the one-nine. Are we clear?”

“As a bell, sir,” Kowalski said easily. “We done here?”

“We’re done. Enjoy the rest of the day, gentlemen, and close the door behind you.”

Ray was totally up for another hour’s worth of argument, but with Kowalski just giving in like that, Ray had no way of fighting Welsh. He muttered a goodbye and closed the door behind him. Kowalski was moving fast and was already at the elevator by the time Ray caught up to him.

“What the hell was that all about?”

Kowalski glanced around at the other cops nearby, and Ray took the hint. He’d wait until they were back in the Riv before starting in again.

“Well?” Ray actually waited until they were in traffic, going on the assumption that he’d be less likely to try to throttle Kowalski if the car was running and innocent pedestrians might get hurt if he lost his temper.

“Well what?”

“You caved! You completely and totally caved!”

“Yeah, well.” Kowalski looked out the window.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” Maybe Ray had been wrong about it, because even in traffic, he was damn tempted to kill Kowalski and to hell with the pedestrians. And anyway, he doubted a single one of them was innocent.

“You know how yesterday, we booked that guy?”

“I booked him. You’re still on medical leave.” Ray swerved around a suicidal trashcan. “But yeah, what about it?”

“Everyone was looking at me like I’m a freak.”

“You _are_ a freak.” Kowalski was. Ray knew it from firsthand experience.

“Yeah, but I was my own kind of freak. Bolt changed that and made me into her kind of freak. Everyone was staring.”

“That is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing I ever heard.” Where the hell did Kowalski come up with shit like this? “Where the hell do you come up with this bullshit?”

“It’s not bullshit.” Christ. Now Kowalski was sulking.

“It is, and you know it is.” Ray took a hard right and narrowly avoided clipping a gaggle of college students. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset over the fact that he’d nearly hit them or the fact that he’d missed them, which just went to show how nuts Kowalski made him.

“It is not.” Suddenly, Kowalski was in Ray’s face, and Ray had to pull over before Kowalski completely lost it. He did so with about a second and a half to spare. “You got no idea, Vecchio, none!”

“Oh yeah?” Ray slouched against the driver’s door, vaguely relieved that Kowalski was finally shouting. The guy had been weirdly calm since the rescue, and it made Ray feel like his world was off balance.

“Yeah!” Kowalski abruptly sat back again. “You — you think it’s great, all this attention, but it’s not.”

“You’re a hero, so of course there’s gonna be attention!” Hell, even Ray was willing to admit that, because Kowalski had kept his shit together, despite everything. When he’d come out of that Bolt hole, he’d done it with a smirk and a joke for the cameras.

“I am _not!_ I’m some poor bastard who got kidnapped, and that doesn’t mean shit.” Kowalski’s jaw was working hard.

“But —”

“You don’t believe me? Ask that cop in Vegas.”

Completely lost, now, Ray asked, “What cop?”

“That cop — a couple of years ago, remember? Got snatched from a scene and buried alive.”

And now Ray did remember. That particular case had given him nightmares at the time, and he didn’t know how the cop in question hung in there. He’d been floored when he heard the guy went back to work after that.

“You ask him. See if he wouldn’t have liked to go somewhere else for a while. Somewhere they didn’t stare at him.” Kowalski was flushed and breathing hard, and Ray finally figured out just how freaked he was by the kidnapping. It was no wonder the senses thing was no big deal to Kowalski — he probably figured they’d keep him safe in the future.

“They’re gonna stare at us on the spook squad.”

Kowalski darted a quick look at Ray. “Yeah, but they’ll be staring because of the spooks, not because I got kidnapped.”

“You’re a freak, Kowalski,” Ray finally said, pulling back into traffic again once it was clear that Kowalski had had his say.

“You’re right, Vecchio.” Kowalski waited until Ray started to turn onto La Salle before asking, “Hey, ever get a blow job from a freak before?”

Ray spent the next hour schmoozing the traffic cop who showed up and exchanging insurance information with the other driver, all the while plotting how he was going to kill Kowalski at the earliest opportunity.

 

### First Day Blues

_Ray is lost in the woods, only he’s not. He’s just aware enough to realize he’s dreaming that he’s lost in the woods, and it irritates him. There’s no reason for his subconscious to do this to him, because Ray knows full well that Kowalski has him going in circles. The dream is just adding insult to injury._

_A flash of white up ahead moves away from him, and Ray thinks he knows that tail. He considers sitting down and waiting to wake up, but finds himself following Dief against his inclination. This isn’t fair. It’s his dream, he should be able to do what he wants, but no. He can’t. He has to follow a deaf wolf through a forest, and never mind that he has to get up in a couple of hours._

_Ray sighs and keeps walking, thankful that dream blisters don’t carry over into the real world. Speaking of the real world, maybe he’s not so lost as he thinks he is, because the trees look familiar. When he stumbles into the clearing and sees the wrecked plane, he knows exactly where his — the same place him and Benny crashed._

_Benny is sitting at the campfire, and Ray goes to clap him on the shoulder. Only when he turns around, it isn’t Benny, it’s Kowalski._

_“Took you long enough,” Kowalski says with a grin._

_“What?” Ray is nervous. He refuses to admit he’s nervous because of Kowalski’s grin._

_Kowalski stands up and puts his arms around Ray like they’ve been doing this forever. He nuzzles Ray behind the ear, and whispers, “Been waiting for you.”_

_“Oh yeah?” This is so goddamn unfair! It’s his fucking dream, so he should be able to come up with really great lines. Brilliant ones, even, because this is his head, and in his head, he’s king. Instead, he’s got a breathy hitch in his voice, one he never gets unless he’s with a woman. _

_Kowalski is_ not _a woman. He’s not a woman, so Ray should be completely cool and in control. What he shouldn’t be is leaning against Kowalski and getting hard, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be grinding his dick against Kowalski and wishing they were both naked._

_The next moment, Ray barely notices they’re suddenly naked, because he’s too damn surprised to find himself humping Kowalski like he’ll die if he doesn’t come right that —_

“Kowalski!” Ray woke up coming while humping the duvet, and Christ, but that was embarrassing. Wet dreams were bad enough when he was younger, but at least back then, they were about Irene or Angie or any of a half-dozen other girls who turned his crank. They _weren’t_ about a style-challenged Polack.

Kowalski pounded once on the door and asked, “What do you want, Vecchio?” There was a pause, and then, “You know, I’d’ve helped you with that if you’d asked.”

The other thing about his wet dreams when he was a kid was that he’d had them at home, where he was the only one who knew about them, because not a single member of his family had a nose like a bloodhound. Ray dropped his face into his pillow and tried to convince himself that no one, not even Benny, would really be upset over Kowalski dying a slow and painful death.

*****

“Stallings, you piece of shit. Why the hell haven’t they fired you yet?”

Ray might have told Kowalski to shut up and make nice with their new department. Maybe pointed out that it wasn’t in their best interests to call their new detective sergeant a piece of shit, because who knew? The guy might actually evaluate their performance one of these days, and it was helpful not to get off on the wrong foot. Ray might have told Kowalski all these things and more, but he kept his mouth shut. He’d made a vow that morning never to speak to the son-of-a-bitch again, and he wouldn’t, even if it killed him.

“Christ, Kowalski,” Stallings said as he stood up. “They had a chance to retire you on medical and they didn’t? What’s the world coming to?”

At that, Kowalski cackled. “Who the hell knows. You ever meet my partner, Ray Vecchio?”

“I’ve heard the name but never had the pleasure. John Stallings.” He held out his hand, and Ray shook it, pointedly ignoring Kowalski. “You were partnered with that Mountie for a while, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Benton Fraser,” Ray said.

“Who came to Chicago on the trail of his father’s killers, I believe,” Stallings said.

“But for reasons not worth exploring at this juncture,” Kowalski added, “he remained in Chicago, acting as a liaison.”

The three men looked at each other for half a beat. Ray tried like hell to keep a straight face, but he broke ranks with a small snort and shook his head as he laughed. “Jesus. Tell me you at least met him,” Ray said to Stallings.

“Nah. Kowalski told me about him when you were, uh, elsewhere.” Stallings said the last word in a low voice, and Ray glared at Kowalski.

“Nice way to keep my cover.”

“Thought you weren’t talking to me.”

Ray started to respond, but Stallings held up a hand. “Gentlemen, your little spats have reached the status of legend throughout the CPD, but even so, I really don’t want to witness one.”

“Understood, sir,” Ray said glumly. Bad enough they ended up in the ass end of the police department, and worse that Kowalski had someone here who actually liked him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Kowalski looked around. “So where’s Lieutenant Murphy?”

“Her office is right over there.” Stallings sat down again. “Seeing as how you’re both detectives, I’ll assume you’re capable of finding your way over there on your own.”

“Love you too, Stallings,” Kowalski said, flipping him the bird.

Ray stepped around Kowalski and headed for Murphy’s office, determined that he, at least, would make a good first impression on her. No matter what he thought of Special Investigations, a lieutenant was a lieutenant, and it didn’t pay to irritate them.

He knocked on her door, and when she called out, he answered, “Detectives Vecchio and Kowalski, ma’am.”

“Hold on.” Kowalski joined him just then and got an odd look on his face. “You can come in,” she said.

Kowalski opened the door and muscled his way in before Ray could even blink. And then he just stood in the door.

“Hey!” Ray shoved him forward, and managed to get into the office.

“Close the door,” Murphy said. Kowalski kept staring — at a puppy.

“You’ll have to excuse my partner,” Ray said. He approached the desk with assurance, ignoring the puppy in Murphy’s arms. He also ignored the fact that with her blonde hair, she kind of looked like Stella, only maybe a little shorter. “Ray Vecchio. And may I compliment you on your dog? It looks to be cute and healthy.”

“It’s not my dog. Have a seat, gentlemen.” She put the puppy on the floor then grabbed a stack of paperwork. Kowalski had stopped looking at the animal but was now staring at the top of a file cabinet, and Ray started to worry that maybe he was zoning out again. “Damn. I thought I had your files.” Murphy stood up, and Ray amended her height to a _lot_ shorter than Stella. He didn’t think she was more than five feet tall. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let the dog out.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Ray resisted the urge to slap Kowalski, and instead rubbed his neck. “Hey. Wake up.”

“I’m awake.” Kowalski shrugged Ray’s hand off. “Stop that. It tickles.”

“What the hell are you looking at?”

Kowalski shot a look at Ray. “The bird.”

“What bird?” Jesus. Only Ray could end up with a partner who was batshit insane.

“The one on the file cabinet.”

“There is no bird on the file cabinet,” Ray hissed. “And if you start that shit when Murphy comes back, you will be given the boot for being crazy. Do you understand me?”

“If there’s no bird, then why is the puppy trying to get at it?”

Ray looked at the puppy, and sure enough, it was on its hind legs, pawing at the cabinet. “It’s a _puppy_ for Christ’s sake. You can’t seriously mean to tell me you’re taking its behavior as proof that you’re not seeing things.”

“I’m telling you, there’s —” Kowalski bit off his words, and maybe second later, Murphy came back in.

She sat down and looked at the two of them. “Harding didn’t tell me why he wants the two of you here, only that you’re not being punished. He also assured me that despite any personal reservations you might have regarding Special Investigations, you will uphold your duty as officers of the Chicago Police Department.”

“Yes, we will,” Ray said immediately. He was almost sure he meant it, too.

Murphy nodded then looked Kowalski over. She said to him, “Detective, I’m well aware of your closure rate and commendations. However, neither of those pieces of information will do you the slightest bit of good when you’re at a scene.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Figured Kowalski didn’t have a clue. Ray thought he might, but he sat back and let Murphy have her say. Maybe she’d have better luck than he’d had over the years.

“Special Investigations has an image problem,” she said. “The public and other cops see us as a joke. The only way to fight back is by being damn good at what we do and dressing professionally while we do it.”

“Ma’am?” Kowalski had a sick look on his face. It made Ray smile.

“Your first assignment with SI is to go out and buy at least three suits. I never want to see you come to work dressed that way again.”

Ray didn’t feel at all guilty about not trying to get Kowalski to dress a little better that morning. The guy was an adult, and if he thought a ratty sweatshirt, jeans and shitkickers were appropriate attire for the first day in a new division, then it was none of Ray’s business.

Also, at the time, he’d been refusing to talk to Kowalski.

“But —” Kowalski sat forward in his chair.

“If you aren’t sure what to get, go to Macy’s. They have personal shoppers who can help you.”

“All due respect, Lieutenant —”

“Detective Kowalski,” she said in a no-nonsense tone, “in my experience, any statement that begins with ‘all due respect’ generally means a complete lack of respect. I understand you’re not used to working with a dress code, and I sympathize. However, I’m serious about the suits.”

Rather than let Kowalski fumble around even more — and possibly destroy Ray’s career along with his own — Ray said, “I can get him suited up, ma’am.”

“Good. I’ll expect you back here at one. Sergeant Stallings will be able to give you a rundown on the kind of cases we handle.”

The puppy chose that moment to turn around and go to Kowalski. It put its paws on Kowalski’s leg and begged to be picked up. Ray was grateful the dog didn’t come over to him; his suit wasn’t built to tolerate that kind of abuse. Kowalski, as usual, didn’t give a shit. He just picked the puppy up and stared into its eyes.

Murphy asked, “Do you like dogs, Kowalski?”

“Yeah. Been a while since I had one.” Kowalski had a dreamy look on his face, so as discreetly as he could, Ray kicked him in the ankle, just in case Kowalski was trying to zone out.

“A friend of mine is looking to place him. Are you interested?”

As soon as Murphy asked the question, both Kowalski and the puppy looked at the top of the file cabinet. In a voice that freaked the hell out of Ray, Kowalski said, “He’s a sentinel in his own right. His duty isn’t to me.” And then Kowalski blinked and gave them a sick-looking smile. “Uh, thanks, but no thanks. The size of his paws, he won’t be happy in my place. Nice dog, though.” He handed the puppy back to Murphy, who was looking at Kowalski like he was a puzzle she needed to solve, and said, “So we’ll go shopping and come back later, okay?”

“Detective —”

“Pitter patter, Vecchio. Time’s a wasting.” With that, Kowalski shot out the door, leaving Ray to clean up the mess.

He shot Murphy an apologetic look. “Fox was running a _Buffy_ marathon most of the time he was off on medical. Between that and the whole kidnapping thing, he’s a little off balance right now.”

Murphy didn’t look like she was buying it.

“I’m not buying it, Vecchio,” she said. “But as long as it doesn’t interfere with his duties, I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ray got the hell out and closed the door behind him.

 

### Dressing for Success Remix

Ray caught up to Kowalski in the parking lot and spun him around. After the morning he’d just had, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be polite or even make allowances for Kowalski. “You do _not_ leave me hanging out to dry like that.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Kowalski took a step, and Ray grabbed him by the collar.

“It _is_ a big deal, you moron. This might not be punishment detail, but if you think Welsh won’t be paying attention, you got another think coming.” Ray adjusted his grip on Kowalski’s collar. “Now what the hell happened in there?”

“Just drop it, will you?” Kowalski made a half-hearted attempt to get away, but Ray wasn’t having it.

“No. Not only do you _not_ leave me hanging out to dry, you do _not_ shut me out.” Ray tried to catch his breath and calm down a little. Kowalski was always a pain in the ass — that was no different than usual — but this morning’s little show was out of line even for him. “What was all that stuff about the dog?”

Kowalski tensed up and turned red. He looked like he was half a breath from slugging Ray, but common sense must have won out, because he just kind of slumped a little. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding kind of helpless.

“You don’t know.” Ray let go of Kowalski’s collar and took a step back. This wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. The answer he _did_ want to hear involved abject apologies and promises not to pull that crap again.

“I don’t know.” Kowalski looked down. “It just — it was freaky. I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, but it was like someone else was in the driver’s seat.”

A shiver ran straight down his spine, and Ray shuddered a little. Kowalski’s first answer was bad enough, but this? This was just — it was freaky, but Ray was getting tired of using the word.

“So — some kind of mumbo jumbo?”

Kowalski shrugged. “I guess.”

Ray looked at him for another moment then pulled out his cell phone to call Sandburg. Sandburg would know what to do. He knew everything.

Of course, calling Sandburg only worked if he answered his phone. At the beep, Ray said, “It’s Vecchio. Give me a call, would you? There’s weird shit — weird_er_ shit going on.” When he hung up, he pointed at the Riv and said, “Let’s go, Cinderella. We gotta get you suited up for the ball.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“We’ll start at Macy’s, work our way back.” Ray slid into the driver’s seat and waited for Kowalski to buckle up. “I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be one-stop shopping, but if not, we’ll try —”

“Freddie’s is only ten minutes away,” Kowalski said, looking straight out the window.

“Freddie’s?” Ray stared at him. “_Fast_ Freddie’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Freddie’s, as in the same Freddie’s where Gentleman Johnnie Marcone is reputed to shop? The same Marcone who served Frank Zuko’s ass on a platter a few years back? _That_ Freddie’s?”

Kowalski looked over at him. “Yeah. _That_ Freddie’s. Beats the shit out of fighting downtown traffic and paying through the ass for parking.”

“Are you nuts?” Ray started the car. “We’ll go to Macy’s.”

“Freddie’s. It’s closer.” Kowalski slouched down in his seat and drew his right leg up a little.

“They won’t even let you in the door unless you’re Italian and wearing Armani.”

“They might.”

“They won’t.”

“Bet they will.”

Ray narrowed his eyes at Kowalski. It felt like a trap, but Ray was pretty sure it wasn’t. A couple of years back, when Kowalski and Benny went north to play in the snow for a while, Ray had spent a miserable two weeks watching Freddie’s on the off-chance that Marcone might show up. With his own eyes, he’d witnessed men without the right looks try to go in and get kicked to the curb, so he was confident this was an easy bet.

“What’s on offer?”

“If I win? A blow job.”

He swallowed hard, because Kowalski was a tricky fucker, a fact he’d learned up close and personal over the last five years. There was still a faint trace of warning in the back of his mind that if he took this sucker bet, he would in fact _be_ the sucker, but — “And when I win, you stop with the sniffing and licking and kissing.”

Kowalski looked at him for a moment, then spit in his right palm and held his hand out. “Deal.”

“What are you, twelve?” When Kowalski raised his eyebrows and started clucking, Ray spit in his own palm and shook on it. “Deal.”

*****

In a perfect universe, Kowalski would have taken one step toward the entrance to Freddie’s, and a whole army of Freddie’s clerks would have shown up to beat him back with a stick. Then Ray would have the pleasure of telling Kowalski he should have listened to him in the first place, secure in the knowledge he didn’t have to worry about the sniffing and licking and kissing anymore.

That was a perfect universe.

That was not, however, the universe in which Ray lived. In Ray’s universe, and against all the laws of fashion and mob connections, Kowalski took one step toward the entrance to Freddie’s, and an army of clerks — okay, two clerks — came rushing out to greet him, and _not_ to kick him to the curb. But that wasn’t even the surreal part. The surreal part was where Kowalski had to _vouch_ for Ray in order for him to even get past the door.

He and Kowalski were seated near the back, waiting for Freddie to make an appearance, because apparently, not a single one of the clerks was even good enough to kiss Kowalski’s ass. Only _Freddie_ could possibly take care of him. Ray shifted a little on the hardback chair, trying to get comfortable.

“Don’t bother,” Kowalski said. “He doesn’t want people sitting around. He wants them trying on stuff, so the chairs are shit.”

“How do you _know_ this?” Ray glared at him. “For that matter, how the _hell_ did you get a free pass to this place?” And as long as he was asking questions, Ray wondered why the hell he’d ever thought he could win a sucker bet.

Kowalski looked a little embarrassed. “A few years back, there was this kid in a warehouse, and I — a guy — it was —” His voice trailed off a little. “Anyway, turned out the kid was Freddie’s grandson. Ever since then, I need a suit, I come here.”

“Jesus Christ. You have access to the best haberdasher in the Midwest, yet you _still_ dress like a bum.” Ray would have gone on at length about some people not having the common sense required to get through life, but just then, Freddie showed up, looking like the thug some people claimed he used to be.

“You look like shit, Ray,” Freddie said. “Get your ass in the dressing room and strip.”

Kowalski stood up and scowled. “Gotta be back at the station by one, dressed nice. Whatever you got on the rack is fine. I can use a stapler to do up the hems.”

“Fuck you and get moving.” Kowalski sauntered off, and Freddie looked at Ray. “Stand up and let me see what you got on.”

Ray swallowed hard and did what he was told; some of those rumors about Freddie being a thug were pretty damn recent. “I’m just — Kowalski’s the one buying today.”

“You’re his partner, right?” Freddie nudged Ray one way and then another, frowning as he did so. It was mildly terrifying.

“Yeah.” His mouth was dry, and his heart was racing. It was kind of embarrassing, when it came right down to it, because it wasn’t like Ray had never come up against a thug before. He had. Lots of times, and not just Zuko. Every time he got together with his cousins, he came up against thugs. But not a single one of them was connected the way Freddie was supposed to be, and Ray wasn’t entirely sure just how seriously the man took fashion decisions.

Freddie nodded and said, “Nice suit.” Ray took a shaky breath. “But it’s all wrong for you. Too loose.” Freddie looked to the front of the store and frowned. “You bring Ray back on Friday, we’ll get you on track.”

“Um, sure. I’ll do that.” Absolutely Ray would do that, even if he had to knock Kowalski out to drag him back here, because Ray wouldn’t put it past Freddie to send someone out and hunt them down. Freddie nodded and went back to the dressing area.

Ray caught his breath and tried to figure out how much cash he had on hand and whether or not he could break into his IRA at some point in the next two days. Whether he wanted to or not, he would be buying a suit here, and yeah, maybe there was a little bit of a thrill in that. It was a little like arriving at last, only in a really fucked up way.

His phone rang, and he answered, “Vecchio.”

“It’s Sandburg.”

“Hi.”

Maybe he could pull the money from the household account and put it back in a couple of months, when it came time to roll over that one CD. Frannie wouldn’t bitch. Much. She would probably understand why he was —

“Well?”

“Well what?” On the other hand, Frannie had gotten pretty tight-fisted lately, which was her problem, not Ray’s. If she’d stop squirting out kids, she might have more —

“You called _me_.”

“What?” Ray came back to the conversation with a mental thump. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“You mentioned something about weird shit,” Sandburg said. “Define weird.”

“He saw a bird that wasn’t there, and then he got totally freakish about a dog.”

“Was the dog there?”

“Of _course_ the dog was there.” Ray looked around to see if anyone noticed his outburst. He lowered his voice. “I’m not sure Kowalski was all there, but the dog was definitely there, and he called it a sentinel. _In front of our new lieutenant!_”

“Really? What kind of dog was it?” Sandburg drew a quick breath. “Wait. You’re sure it was a dog and not a wolf?”

“I know what a wolf looks like, and this was not it.”

“What did it look like?”

“I don’t know! A dog. Four legs, a tail.”

Sandburg sighed. “What size was it?”

“Small. Probably not for long, though. Thing had huge paws.” Freaking huge paws, in fact. Ray nearly had a heart attack when Murphy asked if Kowalski wanted it, and he damn near thanked Kowalski for saying no.

“Puppy, then?” Sandburg spoke again before Ray could answer. “Okay, so you met a puppy this morning and Kowalski called it a sentinel. Was that before or after you saw the bird?”

“Not me, Kowalski.” Ray loosened his tie and checked again to make sure no one was watching. “I don’t see shit that’s not there.”

“Kowalski, then. Was that before or after he saw the puppy?”

“After.” Ray thought about it. “Maybe. I’m not sure. The dog was in the Lieu’s office when we got there. Kowalski shoved his way in before I could take a step, so I don’t know what he saw first, the bird or the dog.”

“Did the puppy react to the bird?”

“Kowalski said yes. Me, I’m not so sure.” Ray was trying very hard to forget the way the dog and Kowalski seemed to track on the same thing. He really didn’t need invisible birds complicating things any more than they already were.

“Did he say what kind of bird it was?”

Kowalski yelled out from the dressing room, “Crow.”

“Stop _doing_ that!” A customer, one who looked connected in all the wrong ways, paused to take a long look at Ray, who held his hands up and said quickly, “I’m sorry. Talking to someone else.”

The goombah nodded slowly after a moment, giving Ray a look that promised a lesson would be taught and learned if Ray didn’t start behaving himself in public.

“Vecchio? You there?”

Ray spun around and faced the wall, figuring he’d be safer if he couldn’t make a positive ID on the guy. In a low voice, he said, “Crow. Kowalski said it was a crow.”

“Crow? Hold on.” There was some clicking in the background. Fast clicking. Figured Sandburg could type. “Wow. This is so cool!”

“‘Cool?’ My partner sees things that don’t exist, and you think it’s _cool_?” Why, why, _why_ did Ray think it was a good idea to call Sandburg? Every time he did, his blood pressure shot through the roof, and he ended up having to deal with more shit than ever.

“Crow medicine is incredible. Tell me, does Kowalski get a bug up his ass about right and fair?”

“Oh, hell yes, but —“

“That ties in perfectly.” Sandburg started muttering under his breath.

Ray hissed, “Ties in perfectly with _what_?”

There was a long pause before Sandburg said, “Um —”

“You sound guilty. Why do you sound guilty?”

“The hyperactive senses are just one part of the package,” Sandburg said.

“There’s more? You mean, beyond the sniffing and licking and kissing —” And the goddamn blow job he was going to have to give Kowalski, because Kowalski _never_ let anyone welsh on a bet. “— There’s _more_?”

“There’s a mystical component. I’m pretty sure what Kowalski saw this morning was his spirit guide.”

“You mean like Indians believe?”

There was a brief pause. “Spirit guides are part of the belief system in many Native American cultures.”

“Kowalski’s Catholic. Lapsed so far down, he’s half a step from Hell, but that don’t matter to the Church. He’s Catholic and a Polack to boot, so he can’t have a spirit guide,” Ray said flatly.

“Catholicism and spirit guides aren’t mutually exclusive. With a little work, I’m sure you’ll be able to meet your spirit guide as well.”

“No way.”

“Way, so listen —” Someone — possibly Ellison — said something to Sandburg. “Look, I can’t talk now, I have to go out. I sent my notes yesterday, so you should see them today. A lot of what you need to know right now is in there, so make sure you read through the summary first thing.”

“Summary?”

“Yes, and you’ll want to keep it safe, because there’s a lot of reference material in that package. Without the summary, you’ll get lost.”

“But —”

“Gotta go, Vecchio.”

His cell phone was relatively new and extremely expensive, so Ray carefully put it back in his jacket instead of grinding it into the carpet the way he wanted. Sandburg sucked. He sucked big time, and —

“Hey. What do you think?” Ray turned around and sat down hard.

He was — Jesus. Who the hell knew Kowalski cleaned up so well? Stella, maybe, though it wasn’t like she’d talked about him all that much when they were married. But Ray wished she had said _something_ about what her ex looked like in a suit, because if she had, maybe he wouldn’t feel like he’d just been kicked in the stomach.

Kowalski glanced back at Ray, and gave him a slow, dirty smile. “I’m thinking we got time to swing by my place so you can pay up.”

His mouth dry and heart racing, Ray nodded absently. “Sure. Whatever.”

 

### Blow the Man Down

“I can do this!”

So what if Ray sounded shaky, even to his own ears. No way was he backing out and giving Kowalski ammunition for the future. Compared to the shit he’d had to do in Las Vegas — hell, the shit he did when he was a kid — putting Kowalski’s dick in his mouth was no big deal. It didn’t even come close to the worm he ate on a dare when he was eleven, because these days, Kowalski was clean as a whistle. Had to be, with his skin as sensitive as it was, so at least Ray wouldn’t be picking dirt out of his teeth afterwards.

He refused to think about what else he might be picking out of his teeth instead.

“Yeah?” Kowalski, who was slouched down on the couch with his legs spread wide, didn’t sound convinced. “Then why’s your mouth over there, when my dick’s over here?”

“I just —” Ray’s mouth dried up completely when Kowalski reached down and gave himself a nice, hard rub through his jeans.

“Just what?”

Just couldn’t seem to put one foot in front of the other. Just couldn’t seem to stop clutching at the wall. Just couldn't seem to convince himself that he was only doing this on a bet instead of because he actually might want — Ray lurched forward a step.

“That’s right, Vecchio. Now try the other foot.” Ray tried the other foot — it didn’t budge. Kowalski pushed himself up off the couch. “Forget it. We don’t got time for you to figure it out today. You can owe me.”

“No way!” Ray took another step and then another. “I can do this!”

“Sure you can, but what year?”

“Fuck you!”

Kowalski grinned. “I keep trying, but you’re too damn skittish.” He reached Ray and put his hands on Ray’s face. God, his touch was gentle. “Relax, Vecchio.”

“I am. I’m fine. I can —”

Kowalski shut Ray up with a kiss.

It started out nice and easy, but nice and easy lasted two, three seconds tops before it turned into nasty and hard, with Ray and Kowalski both fighting to get their tongue into the other guy’s mouth. Kowalski won, but only because he cheated and reached down to rub Ray’s dick with just the right amount of pressure, thus making Ray gasp and moan and generally sound like an idiot who’d never gotten laid in his entire life. He tried to protest, but all that came out were a few sounds that didn't bear the slightest resemblance to any word in the English or Italian language.

Ray dropped his head on Kowalski’s shoulder, because he couldn’t not look, couldn’t not see Kowalski undoing his trousers to slip his hand into Ray’s boxers. Gentle was no longer on the menu, for which Ray was grateful, because gentle wouldn’t do the trick, not now, not when he was so hard and so ready to pop, which was almost a miracle. Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to get hard so soon after coming. Not since he was in his thirties, and maybe not even then.

He started whispering encouragement, using Italian for endearments and English for demands. Kowalski, muttered something about Ray holding his goddamn horses, but Ray was too far gone to give a shit. He wanted done, and he wanted done now, dammit. Kowalski used his wrist to jerk the front of Ray’s boxers down and under his balls, and then he let go of Ray’s dick.

“Hey!” His protest died when he saw Kowalski struggle to get his jeans undone. Ray put Kowalski’s hand back on his dick then took care of getting the jeans open himself. It wasn’t easy, because maybe Ellison was right about sentinels and sex. Kowalski’s hand was working some damn incredible magic on Ray’s dick, and it was all Ray could do to keep focused on getting those goddamn jeans undone. When he finally managed —

“Where the fuck’s your underwear?”

“You really care about that?” Kowalski asked. He squeezed Ray’s dick then loosened his grip with a little twist.

“Goddamn it.” Ray couldn’t catch his breath. Couldn’t think straight, couldn’t act straight, and that sounded about right, because clearly, he himself _wasn’t_ straight. If he was, he wouldn’t be easing himself down to latch onto Kowalski’s dick like it was his ma’s cannelloni.

“Vecchio, you don’t — oh fuck.”

If his mouth hadn’t been full of Kowalski dick, Ray would have smiled. Of course, if his mouth hadn’t been full of Kowalski dick, Ray didn’t think he would have been able to shut his partner up so easily. Right about then, Ray’s brain tried to say something about how Vecchio men don’t suck dick. He tried to shut it up by taking in even more of Kowalski’s dick, but he was stopped by Kowalski’s hand.

“Nuh-unh,” Kowalski said.

Ray tried to say what, but it came out sounding like a grunt. Didn’t matter, because Kowalski answered anyway.

“You were fine where you were. Don’t get ambitious.” He put his hands on Ray’s face again and shoved him back a little.

Ray started to protest then got disgusted with himself when he remembered he couldn’t talk with his mouth full. He let Kowalski’s dick pop out and glared up at him. “I told you I can do this.”

“Never said you couldn’t. But no way am I letting you ruin it by puking on the floor, just because you forgot yourself and let my dick hit the back of your throat. _Capite?_” As angry as Kowalski’s words were, that emotion never reached his hands. They were soft on Ray’s face, with the thumbs making little circles on his cheeks.

Tenderness was always his undoing, only maybe it wasn’t tenderness this time as much as it was the fact that Kowalski wanted him and didn’t make any bones about it. Being pursued wasn’t new — though it had been a long damn time since the last time it happened — but being seduced _was_ new, and the longer Ray thought about it, the more he thought he might want Kowalski to win this particular battle.

“Yeah,” Ray finally said. “Yeah. Okay.”

He leaned forward to take Kowalski’s dick back into his mouth, and this time, he wrapped his hand around the base of it. There was a twinge of panic, sure, but Ray ignored it pretty easily, because he’d been right — he’d done a hell of a lot worse in his life than to suck someone’s dick. By comparison, this was downright tame and maybe a little hotter than he’d thought it would be, because he hadn’t counted on catching as much of Kowalski’s scent as he did.

It was a musky, clean odor, and there was something about it that reached in through Ray’s nose and grabbed hold of his dick, which was getting hard again now that they were done with talking. And thank God, they were done with talking, because Ray didn’t want to talk about this. Instead, Ray wanted to enjoy the slip-slide of Kowalski’s dick along his tongue and those absolutely goofy noises the guy made every time Ray sucked with just a little too much strength.

Why hadn’t Angie or Stella ever told him what this felt like? It wasn’t anything like going down on a woman, no matter how much Kowalski’s hips danced to the same kind of rhythm Stella’s had. This was real. There was absolutely no doubt in Ray’s mind that when he swirled his tongue around the head of Kowalski’s dick, he was doing right by his partner. Even if the hard-on wasn’t proof enough on its own, the wash of bitter flavor on his tongue was enough to convince Ray that Kowalski was maybe half a minute from coming.

Wait.

Ray opened his mouth and jerked away just before Kowalski shot his wad with a grateful-sounding groan and some swearing. It was a shame he hadn’t gotten far enough away, but fortunately, Kowalski’s junk only landed on his tie, and that could be changed easy enough. As Ray thought about what tie to wear instead, he started shaking hard, because it turned out Kowalski wasn’t the only one who’d shot his wad, and what the hell did that say about _Ray?_

Before he could retreat in full blown panic, Kowalski gripped Ray’s arms and dragged him back to his feet.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” The door wasn’t that far away. Maybe he could —

“Don’t even think about running, Vecchio.”

Kowalski’s tone was enough to cut through Ray’s panic and raise his hackles. “Oh yeah?” He twisted out of Kowalski’s grip and sneered. “What’ll happen if I do?”

“I’ll catch you.”

Ray hadn’t ever really thought about it before, but Kowalski’s smile could be downright mean at times, especially when he was mostly just baring his teeth. He started to think that maybe he should have welched on the bet after all, because he didn’t doubt for one minute that Kowalski would do exactly that.

“Oh.” Ray thought about that while his heart slowed down, but he couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not. “That a threat?”

“Nah.” Kowalski got close enough to kiss him again, this time slow and easy. “It’s a promise.”


End file.
